


Call a Locksmith

by 16pennies



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: M/M, incorrect usage of phallic anatomy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:27:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22915495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/16pennies/pseuds/16pennies
Summary: Garak's unique Cardassian anatomy comes in handy in Julian's latest holosuite adventure.[Just some ridiculous, vaguely smutty Garashir escapades. This is basically crackfic, guys.]
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 5
Kudos: 34





	Call a Locksmith

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jadzeanna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadzeanna/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Love's Sacrifices Part 1 of 4](https://archiveofourown.org/works/216001) by [Gul_Obsidian_Dragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gul_Obsidian_Dragon/pseuds/Gul_Obsidian_Dragon). 



> Jadzeanna and I were fascinated by the potential for Garak's anatomy in Gul_Obsidian_Dragon's story and so I decided to explore a little bit and wrote this because I was on a terribly boring road trip about 2 years ago.
> 
> Brace yourselves for some silly nonsense meant entirely in good fun.

“Doctor, are you alright?”

Julian looked up from his cup of red leaf tea. “Hmm?” Garak stared at him from across the table. “Oh, I’m fine Garak.”

“Are you sure? You haven’t said a word in five minutes and, forgive me for saying so, but you don’t seem at all interested in our discussion.”

Sighing, Julian leaned back in his chair. “I don’t know, Garak. I guess I’m just not in the mood for ancient Cardassian poetry.”

“Well, don’t allow me to keep you against your will.” Julian could barely keep himself from rolling his eyes when Garak set down his knife and fork. _Melodramatic lizard_.

“It’s not that, Garak. I love our lunches. I think I’m just…. worn out. It took me nine days to sort out that damned Ferengi virus and now I just need a day off.”

“But aren’t you off-duty today?”

“Yeah but—I know! Let’s go to the holosuite.”

Julian was already halfway out of his seat when Garak managed to grab hold of his wrist. “I beg your pardon, doctor, but while your enthusiasm is admirable, I do intend on finishing my lunch.”

This time Julian did roll his eyes. “Come on, Garak. You’re nearly done. I’ll tell you what: you sit here and finish up and I’ll go speak with Quark and see if there are any availabilities.”

And Julian was off.

Garak watched him scurry off to the bar and allowed himself a self-pitying sigh. “If he has any compassion for me,” he murmured as he carefully nudged the last bite onto his fork, “Quark will shut down all the holosuites for the rest of the week.”

~*~

Scarcely fifteen minutes later found them in Holosuite 3, dressed in Julian’s favourite historical Earth costume and strutting around a lavish suite circa 1963. Well, Julian strutted; Garak frowned at his reflection in the mirror and made minute adjustments to his bowtie. He couldn’t fathom why anyone, neck-ridges or no, would ever invent a garment which was worn wrapped around the neck.

His work was undone when Julian clapped him on the back, jostling everything out of place, but there was no time to readjust as he had found their assignment and they were off.

~*~

“Doctor, is being trapped in an unsolvable situation a mandatory part of these programs?”

“More or less,” grunted Julian as he pressed his shoulder against the door. The thing gave no indication of the slightest movement. Sighing, he stood back and frowned. “They’re not unsolvable, though, they just seem that way. Part of the fun is working out a solution before it’s too late.”

Garak hummed pensively as he surveyed the barren room in which they were locked. “In this case, before the building explodes? At least, that’s what your villain said before he turned the key.”

“Right. Which gives us… eighteen minutes. Plenty of time.” Julian dropped to his knees and squinted at the door handle. “There’s a lock here, one of the old tumbler ones that requires a metal key. Which makes me think that we’re supposed to pick it somehow…”

Garak dramatically gestured to the room behind Julian’s back. “And what do you suppose we do that with, doctor?” There was no furniture, no wall hangings, not even floorboards to pry nails out of.

Julian ran his fingers over the lock, squinting at it. An idea struck, and he sank back onto his heels. “Damn. Usually, in this program, I’d have a woman with me. She’d have a hairpin. But I told the computer to leave out that character because I have you as my sidekick instead.” He twisted to look behind him. “You don’t have a hairpin, do you?”

Garak gave him a look. “No, doctor, I’m afraid I didn’t bring my hairpin today.”

“Pity,” Julian deadpanned as he turned back to the lock. “Probably not worth looking for anything in the room. Although…” he stood and began to pat down his tuxedo, checking every pocket for something which might work. All he found was his small handgun, and shooting the lock proved to be absolutely fruitless. “Didn’t even make a dent.”

“I don’t suppose you could take it apart?”

“No,” Julian sighed and threw the thing to the floor. “State of the art. Made out of one piece of metal.”

Garak chuckled darkly. “Well, doctor,” he said, leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. “I do believe we are at an impasse.”

“Hang on, we’ve still got thirteen minutes. Don’t give up yet.”

Garak hummed, rather enjoying watching his relentlessly optimistic friend confront a hopeless situation.

Until Julian’s frown turned into a mischievous smile and Garak felt somewhat concerned.

“I have an idea.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

Julian turned, looked Garak up and down. “You have something that will work. Not a hairpin, exactly, but close enough.”

Garak frowned, eyeridges pressing closer together until he saw where Julian’s gaze had landed and then—“Oh, no, doctor. _No_.”

“Why not!” Julian was scampering over, ready to invade personal space and dammit, this room was locked and Garak had absolutely no escape. He found himself cornered against the wall with six feet of overly excited human pressed against his front.

“Doctor, you are—to be quite frank, you are being _ridiculous_.” Garak had a hand on each of Julian’s shoulders, trying to keep him at bay, but the doctor’s limbs were just too _long,_ and with one leg pressed between his legs Garak was having a harder time, so to speak, pushing him away.

“Come on, Garak.” Julian turned on what Garak supposed must be his Serious Face. “After all, it’s our only hope.” Garak became dimly aware of a hand creeping down his chest, wandering to his left hip. “If you don’t, the bomb in this building will kill us all. Think of the innocent civilians, Garak.”

That was about the last thing Garak wanted to think of while Doctor Bashir’s hand was crawling toward his groin. He was sure he must be flushing, most irritatingly, and opened his mouth to offer one last weak protest to save his dignity but was spared the trouble when he found the doctor’s mouth on his instead. The hands on Julian’s shoulders squeezed, eliciting a lovely noise, and he found himself resigned to the fact that his rather inconvenient anatomy was about to be used as a prop in a horribly inaccurate espionage simulation.

Julian’s excitement only increased and he broke the kiss to drag Garak across the room, pressing him against the door and then most effectively smothering his protests with more kisses. One hand returned to Garak’s hip while the other went to the side of his neck, wriggling a finger into the collar to tease the ridges there. Garak once again cursed these humans and their impractical wrappings which made accessing such important parts so difficult. This was further demonstrated as Julian struggled to undo Garak’s belt with one hand.

Garak hissed as Julian accidentally nudged him through his trousers. “Careful, doctor, we only have—ah!” The belt was gone and Julian was making quick work of getting into Garak’s pants.

“What was that?” he said in the tone of amusement one has when holding another’s genitals.

“Just that—” Garak tried to maintain his breathing. “We ought not to forget our time restraints.”

Julian chuckled and flicked his tongue against the ridge trailing down from Garak’s ear. “You’re not saying you want me to slow down, are you?”

“No!” Garak hated how desperate he sounded. _To save innocent lives_ , he reminded himself. _Innocent holograms_ —!

Julian was kissing him again, smiling, and doing everything he knew Garak liked. Damn that Ferengi virus—the doctor really had been busy for the last week and Garak was feeling rather severely deprived because of it. He’d missed this, feeling this human around him, devouring him, touching him, teasing him—

“Doctor, I’m—careful—”

The doctor chuckled again. “I know.” He kissed him again.

Though Julian had moved slightly out of the way out of an abundance of caution, it surprised them both when Garak let out a strangled cry.

Raising his eyebrows, Julian turned his gaze downwards. Though he had released Garak’s trousers enough to reach his hand in, they were still very much around his hips and thus there was now a metal spike protruding through the material. He vaguely wondered if that hurt or, if Garak’s expression was anything to go by, it was just an extra form of stimulation.

Julian grinned. “Come on, time’s running out,” he quipped and gently spun Garak to face the door. The Cardassian in question complied easily but gave Julian a look which conveyed both intense arousal and the promise of future revenge. He slid the spike into the lock with relative ease, gasping a little as he did so. Standing at his side, Julian watched.

“Remind me how this works again, doctor.”

“Well, you need to sort of… prod it around until the tumblers are released and then the door will unlock.”

“How helpful,” Garak muttered under his breath but set about doing as instructed. His jaw was clenched and his eyes unfocused; Julian found himself sincerely hoping it was from pleasure, not pain. He really ought to have done more research on Cardassian anatomy, but the entire species was so bloody secretive—

“Oh!”

There was a _click_.

Julian tentatively tried the door handle; it gave easily and the door swung open, freeing Garak from its hold.

“Well done,” murmured Julian. “Come on, then,” and he charged through the doorway.

“Doctor,”

Julian made a show of stopping and turning around. Garak stood there, dishevelled and glaring at him with wide pupils and dark flushes tinting his ridges. He swallowed. _Delicious_.

“Yes, Garak?”

Garak gave him a look which could only be described as “really?”

“Come now, Garak. You can’t expect me to just forget about all the innocent lives at stake. We’ve got barely three minutes before the building goes up!”

Garak’s expression darkened considerably. Julian allowed himself an overly dramatic sigh.

“But, if we evacuate all the civilians,” he slinked closer, “I promise to thank you. _Profusely_.”

He stood chest to heaving chest with Garak now, and the look of Garak’s mussed hair with the lust in his eyes made Julian seriously consider freezing the program and asking the computer for a bed, or at least a decently sized couch.

Garak leaned in closer, lips barely touching his, and repeated, “ _Profusely_.”

Smiling, Julian took Garak’s hand and dashed down the corridor.

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like context, check out Gul_Obsidian_Dragon's story "Love's Sacrifices Part 1 of 4" on which this story is based.


End file.
